A Slice of American Pi r Squared
by Madam Mimm
Summary: A frat house AU, with about as much going for it as the residents of Omega Beta Pi. TOGA! TOGA! Dean/Cas with Sam/Gabe accompaniment, naturally. I have no idea where this is going.
1. Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young man in possession of a college scholarship must be in want of a Frat.

Of course, not everyone fits into the Frat house lifestyle. Some find it too boisterous, too exclusive, too downright stupid. It is a question of finding the house that suits the person. At the Illinois Institute of Technology, for instance, there was Theta Kappa Kappa for the Future Scientists of America, Gamma Epsilon Omega for the more artistic party animals, Alpha Kappa Alpha for the true elite, and then…

Then there was the reason Castiel Novak had been called in.

The house, Omega Epsilon Pi, had been put on probation three times since its' creation some twenty years previously. It had added no prizes, award or accolades to the college's hall of fame, had contributed only fifty seven cents through college fundraisers, and had been reprimanded and handed more disciplinary warnings than any other house on campus, Frat or Sorority. Hence Castiel Novak.

One of the grander Alumni of the college, he had gone on to get a doctorate in the field of behavioural psychology, a professorship, and found his true calling when he managed to transform a failing Fraternity by becoming their house father. Stories of his success spread quickly, and soon colleges across the country called him in to gain control over failing, rambunctious fraternities, and remould them into bastions of college pride.

Omega Beta Pi was, therefore, just another job.

Or so he'd thought.

His suspicions should have been raised when he asked for directions to the house at the college reception, and the security guard had to pour over a map for fifteen minutes before he could find it. Or, when he asked a student if he was headed in the right direction, and the student in question laughed and told him to turn back while he still could. But no, Castiel continued along Fraternity Row, noting the grand, well-decorated houses, a little shabby on the gardening front but still respectable. The grandest, most mansion-like of the houses was adorned with three gold letters mounted on the roof of what Castiel was loath to call a porch, and was really more of a Grecian frieze, a stylish reproduction of the Parthenon. This, according to those golden Greek letters, was Alpha Kappa Alpha, the most wealthy, most elite of Fraternity houses. No need for Castiel's services here. However, this did mean he'd reached the end of fraternity row, and he had yet to find the Omega Beta Pi house. Tricky.

A young man with a mullet walked past him, carrying a Walmart bag full of what looked like candy, bottles of honey and cupcakes.

"Lost, dude?"

"I'm looking for Omega Beta Pi."

"Oh… kay…" The mulleted student looked him up and down. "Anyone in particular?"

"Just the house."  
"Phew. Cool. Thought you might have been a fed." He laughed, slapping Castiel on the arm. "Wouldn't be the first time. C'mon, it's just 'round the back here."

Worried, Castiel followed the young man around the edge of the Alpha Kappa Alpha grounds, skirting the tall white fence that boxed in their perfection, to an overgrown alleyway.

"Are you a member of the Fraternity?" Castiel asked, picking his way around puddles and weeds.

"Yup, paid in full. Well… paid half in cash, half in beers for the guys, but the pledge master don't mind too much, he's a good guy, you know?"

"Yes… Why isn't the house on Fraternity row?"

"No room for us, dude. We're a new house, well, new compared to the other guys, but that meant we got the old staff house when they got moved to cushier quarters. You know, groundskeepers, security, anyone who needed to stay overnight. It ain't grand, but it's home."

And with that, the mulleted man rounded the corner, to reveal a modest looking two story (probably three, Castiel noted, as there were lights in the attic) house with a boarded up front window, a garden in a shocking state of disrepair, and a garage with curtains hung in place of the electric doors. A very dented mailbox declared, in painted letters, that this was indeed the house for Omega Beta Pi.

Castiel's jaw set in determination.

"If what the college Dean told me is correct, the most Senior members of this Fraternity are a Dean Winchester and a Gabriel Goldman?"

"Yeah… dude, who did you say you were?"

"What is your name?"

"… Ash?"

"You sound uncertain."  
"Because you're freaking me out a little bit?"

"Ash. Find Winchester and Goldman, and tell them to assemble a Fraternity meeting in… I presume you have a communal space?"

"Well, there's the crash room, if that's what you mean… where everyone hangs out…"

"In polite society, that is called a 'living room'. I want everyone there in five minutes, no more, no less. We cannot afford to waste time."

"Dude, seriously, who are you?"

"I am not a 'dude'. You may call me Mr Novak, or Castiel if you prefer. I will explain in full when you are all gathered together, as there is nothing more redundant than repeating ones' self. If you could do as I asked now? Please."

Ash, wide eyed, retreated into the house. Castiel stared around the garden.

The empty chassis of a car stood in the grass like some grim sculpture, with its' entrails spewed over the driveway. Beer cans and bottles littered the porch and lawn where there should have been flowers, paint peeled from the siding in great chunks, and through the non-boarded up windows, mildewed books could be seen clogging windowsills.

This was not going to be an easy job.

(-*-)

The crash room had never seen so many people at once.

Ash sat, idly fiddling with his lucky bong (made out of his old mathletes trophy), and staring at Chuck, who was pacing nervously.

"He said he knew the college Dean?"

"Yeah. And he wants to talk to Dean and Gabriel."

"Crap. That's… that can't be good."

"Chuck, do calm down." Balthazar lounged across an entire sofa, lighting a cigarette. "It can't be all that bad."

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But your twitching is getting very annoying."

"Leave him alone." Gabriel sighed as he entered the room, hair stuck up at odd angles, clearly having just woken up, even though it was noon. "Ash. Cure."

Ash threw the Walmart bag to his pledge master, and the assembled frat brothers watched in grim fascination as Gabriel covered cupcakes in honey, before sprinkling them with salt water taffy and ready cooked baco-bits and snarfing them down.

"Ugh." He groaned. "So good…. Right… what's going on?"

"Omega Beta Pi," a gravelly voice addressed them from the doorway. They turned to see a man in a suit and trenchcoat examining his surroundings, distaste obvious on his face. "Good afternoon. I can see I have my work cut out for me. Which of you is Gabriel Goldman?"

Gabriel raised his hand, aware that he probably should have put something on over the top of his red satin boxers and white vest. Like a robe or something.

(-*-)

Dean strolled back from class, reserving an especially dark scowl for the Alpha Kappa Alpha house as he rounded the corner into the alleyway. He hitched his pack higher on his shoulder, and felt some of the tension leaving, knowing that he was now heading back to his domain. His castle.

But when he saw the house, he knew something was wrong. Two bulging black sacks sat on the porch, filled to bursting with the cans and bottles that normally littered the ground. The curtains that normally shielded hungover eyes from the cruel, merciless glare of natural sunlight had been drawn back, and the windows opened, even though no one was leaning out of them to have a smoke. The house was silent.

Dean smelled a rat (a figurative one. They'd gotten rid of the real rats, and convinced Gabriel to store his food more carefully). He stormed into the house, to see his frat brothers putting books carefully into the bookshelves either side of the fireplace.

"What the shit?"

Gabriel gave a nervy smile.

"Ah." A voice came from the kitchen. Dean approached the voice, ready to beat the shit out of whatever douche pledge thought he could bully his way in and…

The man who stood in the kitchen, dropping empty beer bottles into a black sack, was definitely not a douche pledge.

"You must be Mr Winchester."

"Yeah, I'm Dean. Who are you?"

The man, his messy black hair glinting under the kitchen lights as he set down his garbage sack and turned to Dean, was looking less than impressed.

"My name is Castiel Novak. I am the one who will drag this fraternity up from the gutter and make an example of it. So, Mr Winchester, if you would be so kind, I'd like a tour of this house."

Well, thought Dean, fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean dumped his bag on the floor and glared at the newcomer.

"Listen, buddy, I don't know what the hell planet you're from…"

"He's from planet kick-our-asses-and-get-us-suspended," Gabriel hissed at him, eyes wide with terror. "In the galaxy of don't-be-a-wise-ass."

"No way. He can't just come in here and tell us how to run our frat…"

"It rather appears that he can." Balthazar sighed, not pausing in his bookshelf stacking. "And, has."

"You would do well to listen to your friends, Mr Winchester." The newcomer did not smile, and continued to glare at Dean. "Now, if you would care to show me around?"

"Sure." Dean said, eventually, managing to just about reconfigure his features into something resembling a smile (in roughly the same way a shark resembles a goldfish), "but, uh, could the guys have a chance to tidy their dorms first? We had kinda a rough weekend, and you should really see the house as it normally is, right?"

Castiel didn't immediately object, and Dean turned his smile on the other members of his Fraternity.

"Alright guys. Want to get this place ship shape?"

They nodded, and dispersed into their dorms. Every pledge learned shortly after initiation that 'ship shape' was a code phrase, meaning 'I don't care how you do it, but scare this dipshit off by whatever means necessary'. Only those who could survive the house in Ship Shape earned the (grudging) respect of the Frat members. It may sound immature, but it was really used more for self-defence than anything; the young men of Omega Beta Pi had long since learned that they couldn't steal what they couldn't find.

However, this had the unfortunate side effect of leaving Dean alone with the strange new visitor.

"I guess we could start in the kitchen?"

Castiel nodded, and waited for Dean to lead the way. Dean stared at him.

"Since you're already in it."

Castiel looked around at the wall of cupboards, the old fridge, the cooker that had never been cleaned, and the tiny, ex-diner, grease-and-tacky-formica-covered table.

"This?" Castiel said.

"That." Dean nodded.

"This is your kitchen?"

Dean nodded again. "And that…" he pointed at the adjoining room, where the other Frat members had been restacking bookshelves. "that's the library. Slash study. Downstairs there's a bathroom, and a closet. Then in the basement there's two bedrooms, plus… y'know, basement space, then there's four bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and another two bedrooms up in the attic."

Castiel stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decipher a joke. Then, he realised Dean was being serious.

"Oh… Well… It's a little smaller than I'd expected, but, uh…"

"It's not the size tha counts. It's what you do with it." Dean grinned. It was a cocky, lopsided grin that put Castiel on edge. He found himself instantly wanting to punch it off of his smug face. How could this boy (for he was a boy, no more than nineteen and obviously incredibly immature) be in charge of a fraternity? No wonder the place was a pig sty, no wonder everyone on campus treated the house like a joke. Well, thought Castiel, fighting back a blush under Dean's insolent grin, they should enjoy their last few moments of being such delinquents. He was here to do a job, and they would get dragged up into a respectable condition, just like any other house. No matter what scruffy-blonde-haired, green-eyed, clearly-works-out-a-lot with his cocky grin and freckles and

Castiel held a quick mental wake for the victims of the thought that had derailed so violently and so quickly, before following Dean through to the ground floor bathroom. It held a bathtub with a shower nozzle clinging to the wall above it, a rust covered towel rail, a mirror and sink so close to the bath that you may as well have washed your hands in the tub, and a toilet, which… yegh. It had been decorated in the seventies, but the tile was chipped and thick with grime, and the wall bubbled and swelled with damp. The air stank of mould.

"This needs fixing." Castiel sighed. "How long has it been…"

"A couple of years ago there was a really harsh winter. Damp got in and no one's come to fix it, no matter how much Chuck bitches about his asthma and Balthazar mutters about his lawyer dad."

Dean swung the door shut on the little bathroom that couldn't, and pushed open a door that revealed a stairwell, leading down into the basement.

"Ash! You ready for inspection?"

And so, resigned to his task, Castiel marched down into the gloom.

(-*-)

Ash's room was a collection of cheap retro memorabilia, boxes of books and a plethora of wires, circuit boards and other technological innards, such that if it hadn't been for the bare drywall, Castiel wouldn't have known where the basement space ended and the improvised bedroom began. In stark contrast, the other bedroom held in the basement was only too distinct.

Walls lined with steel, decked with newspaper clippings, printed out maps and the odd poster of a half-naked woman, and (most worryingly), arcane looking runes and sigils painted on every inch of available space.

"Garth's room." Dean said, by way of an explanation. "He's gone home for a few days. The nurse said he needed a psychological rest. I don't see the problem, really, if he believes in ghosts and shit let him believe."

"I think the problem came more from barricading the board of directors into the conference room," Ash said, leaning against the door behind Castiel. "And when he tried to force one of them to eat a whole handful of salt."

Castiel stared at both of them, waiting for the joke. Dean shrugged, and grinned his cocky grin again.

"College is a stressful time."

Next up was Balthazar's room, on the first floor. Dimly lit, even with the curtains wide open, it was a bed whose legs had been broken off in an attempt to replicate a bed he had 'thought was much more fuck-worthy' from his favourite TV show. Clothes lay strewn everywhere, as did cigarette cartons, empty bottles and books.

Chuck's room was… terrifying, frankly, with what looked very much like a still taking up most of the space.

"He's not making moonshine," Dean said, in response to Castiel's raised eyebrows. As he turned his back on the domestic pharmacy that sat by Chuck's bed, however, he could have sworn he heard someone mutter the words "right this second".

Two of the rooms on the floor were unoccupied, the doors firmly locked, "to avoid squatters or spies", and the attic…

Oh God, the attic.

If some poor, misguided soul had ever made a pornographic version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the props and set had ended up in the attic of the Omega Beta Pi house. Everywhere Castiel looked there were edible panties, flavoured condoms and chocolate lube. Gabriel, who apparently had no shame, grinned up at him from the pink and purple zebra print bed.

"They say man cannot live by bread alone. They don't say shit about candy and sex."

Although made up as a room, the other half of the attic sat unoccupied, meaning there were three unused rooms in the house, and no suggestion of another room.

"And where is your room?" Castiel asked Dean, trying to keep the dread out of his voice. Dean looked him up and down slowly, locking eyes with him with such a fierce glare that Castiel had to fight the urge to shrink away. Dean closed the space between them, drawing himself up to his full height (a few inches taller than Castiel, but enough to make a point), and leant close to his ear.

"I'm not like these sluts. You gotta buy me dinner first."

With that, and to Gabriel's amusement, Dean flashed another cocky grin and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel's luggage arrived by courier that afternoon, and it was decided he would stay in one of the empty rooms upstairs. The room was mostly bare, with an undressed bed, a plain white blind over the window, and bare cream walls. Old seemed to be the best word to describe it. Castiel began to fill the dresser shaped dresser with his clothes, unaware that, in the basement, mutiny was already brewing.

"I say we wait for Garth to return," Balthazar said, examining the grit under his fingernails, "if anyone's going to scare him off, it's Garth."

"Wait?" Gabriel repeated, incredulous. "I'm not waiting. He's going to ruin everything! Say goodbye to sausage-fest Saturdays, that's gone…"

"Gabriel, you're the only one who thinks communal gay porn night is a good idea."

"Respect your Pledgemaster, Chuck, don't make me get the cheez-whizz."

"Shut it," Dean barked, getting everyone's attention. "You're panicking over nothing. He's not going to last a week. We'll break him."

"And if we don't?"

"Dude, this house needs to stay a thing," Ash's eyes widened, "or we're all screwed. Nothin'll stop the Alphas then…"

"Yeah, I know. So we'll just keep on being us. No sweat." Dean grinned. "Who knows, he might even fix things up for us before he goes coo-coo."

And Dean wasn't wrong. The next morning, the house was woken by the noise of a wall crashing down. Dean paused, in the middle of extracting his pop tart from the toaster.

"Uh, hi?"

"Ah, good, someone's awake." Castiel walked into the kitchen, brushing dust off of his hands and rolling down his sleeves. "You are aware it's ten in the morning?"

"Yeah… are you aware that you're knocking down walls?"

"While everyone was out last night, I had a builder friend come round and discussed the possibility of upgrading the bathroom. A minimal water closet like that is not up to code for dealing with this amount of people."

"Seriously? They're actually fixing the bathroom?"

Castiel nodded, feeling a small balloon of pride swell in his chest.

"How? We've been bitching about it for years, they always said it wasn't in the budget… how.."?

"I hold a certain amount of sway with the college's board of directors. What I advise, it is recommended they do. When I recommend that the closet space be gotten rid of and made part of the bathroom, and the damp be treated as soon as possible, for instance, it happens."

"Awesome! Dude, that's, uh… thanks." Dean smiled, flipping his pop-tart onto a plate and backing out of the kitchen. Castiel had known that would be a good start. He was sure he'd have them eating out of his hand in no time.

(-*-)

It never took long, with so many young people confined to such a tense atmosphere, for trouble to brew. In fact, within twenty hours, the first blow had been struck.

"I don't understand," Castiel muttered, grasping the door-frame for support.

"What's to understand?" Gabriel said, wiping brick dust off the toilet lid. "They took our wall."

"But…"

"I knew it was too good to be true."

"How do you know it's these…"

"It's always Alpha Kappa Alpha." Gabriel took a seat on the lid of the toilet, and glared pissily at Castiel. "Always. They run the place, and have dibs on, like, seventy per cent of all college funds for frat houses. They're like the Mafia. A really preppy, heads-up-their-own-asses, college Mafia. And they've got a special hate on for us."

At that point, Dean pushed past Castiel, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Everybody out, gotta p-"

Dean stared at the five foot by five foot hole in the bathroom wall.

He blinked.

"Son of a bitch."

And he left. Gabriel frowned, before looking at Castiel again.

"I'm going to guess violence is the sort of thing you're here to stop?"

"Yes… but he wouldn't…"

Even as Castiel said it, he realised he had no idea what Dean was capable of. He turned and strode quickly after Dean, hoping to find him before he created a scene. Gabriel, now left in the empty bathroom, analysed the breezy hole in the wall, and wondered if he was enough of an exhibitionist to just go ahead and shower anyway.

On the grand steps of the Alpha Kappa Alpha building sat a small pyramid of bricks, surrounded by Starbucks chugging jocks. Dean stormed up to them, so mad that he didn't care he was only in a hoody and sweatpants.

"What kind of asshats steal someone's wall? Even for you, Mikey, that's low."

"You don't talk to Michael like that, charity case," one of the lackeys sneered over his starbucks, pushing out his chest and emphasising his bulk. "Else I might have to teach you a lesson."

"Uriel." Michael, the eldest of the group, silenced his fraternity. "Honestly, Winchester, I really don't see a problem. We'd put in an application weeks ago for a back patio. And now we can't have it, because your joke of a fraternity snuck in and stole those funds. So really, we're just reclaiming what is rightfully…"

"You douchebags don't know a thing about "rightful", so shut your damn mouth and give us back the bricks."

The Alphas just laughed. Dean clenched his fist, and started up the steps, but was held back.

"Now, please, let's not resort to violence."

Dean shrugged off Castiel's hand, and spared him a second long glance, which held a fair amount of force.

"Don't get involved, ok? You don't have any business here…"

"Now, now," Michael sighed, already sounding bored. "I'm sure we can all learn from this. If you are the "Mr Novak" here to fix our little slum house, then you would do well to learn that our house raises more than triple the fund money than these guys, and therefore have priority over assignment of it. We, humble Alpha Kappas that we are, can learn never to trust the higher ups to follow through on their promises. And you, Winchester, and all of your junkyard dogs, can learn your goddamn place."

"Oh yeah? And where's that?" Dean snarled.

"The gutter." Michael drawled, to the boisterous laughter of his frat. "Mr Novak, it was a pleasure meeting you, but we have some bricks to keep safe, and classes to get to, so if you wouldn't mind taking your dog off our property, that would be lovely."

"And you'd just love that, wouldn't you, stuck-up prick…" Dean looked like he was about to really let go, when an Alpha pledge, identifiable by his Alpha sash and the fact that he was bringing everyone's breakfasts, walked up behind Dean and Castiel.

"What's going on?"

Dean stared at the pledge for a moment, struck dumb. Even the snickers of the Alpha frat didn't seem to get his attention. Eventually, he shot Michael with one last glare.

"This ain't over." And with that, Dan stormed back to the house, and Castiel followed him, worried by the fierce expression on his face. Dean ran on ahead, and by the time Castiel rounded the corner, the only person he could see was Gabriel, in a red satin smoking jacket, stood by the mailbox and looking like a startled cat.

"What the hell was up with Dean?"

"He confronted the Alpha Kappa Alphas, and didn't go too well."

"He did? Huh… looked awful clean, compared to normal."

"He was about to resort to violence, I think, but then a pledge turned up and… almost seemed to scare him off."

"A pledge?" Gabriel's attention snapped back to the matter at hand like an elastic waistband. "Tall as a redwood, wide as a highway, dresses like a Brokeback reject?"

Castiel nodded, although he wasn't sure whether he agreed with the description. Gabriel sucked in air through his teeth and adopted a faraway look in his eyes.

"Yeah, that's Sam. Dean doesn't like people to talk about him, but… mmf."

Castiel waited for the rest of the story, but realised that Gabriel wasn't going to give up whatever fantasy he was clinging on to.

"Who's Sam?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah… He's Dean's brother. And he really doesn't like him these days."


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel started heading back towards the house, and Castiel followed closely.

"See," Gabriel said, as he rooted in his pocket for a can of chocolate slimfast, "Dean's dad was, like, king of this very frat. Or something. One of the big kahunas, back in the day. 'Course, then he sunk all his money in a house that got blown up by terrorists or some shit and Dean and Sam both had to get in here on scholarships."

"Terrorists?"

"This is all rumour, but I know the basic skeleton's true. Heard so myself from the horse's… well, actually, from one of the other horses in the same field, but whatever. S'anyway. Dean came here and was like 'family legacy, that's for me' and wanted to do his daddy proud and all that shit, and he just expected Sam to be the same."

"And he decided against it?" Castiel interjected, as Gabriel swigged some slimfast and deposited the mail on a small table just inside the door.

"Sam said he wanted to be part of something that could help his future… wants to be a lawyer, so said he needed connections."

"And Dean didn't take it well?"

"Dean doesn't take anything well, except his drinks and a punch to the face. So he pulled the 'you're dead to me' and just sits in his cave bitching about it." Gabriel sighed. "It's a real shame, too… the things a pledgemaster could do with a guy like Sam…"

Castiel let Gabriel stare off into the distance for a moment, expecting him to continue. After five minutes had passed and a small amount of drool had begun to form in the corner of Gabriel's mouth, Castiel backed out of the awkward moment to go do…. Anything that involved him being elsewhere.

From his years of experience, he really should have known to warn against any action, but he figured with Dean chastised, there would be no ring leader.

He should have known that in a pack of Omegas, anyone can take control.

It took until six that evening for Chuck to snap. He stormed into the crash room, and kicked the fireplace, earning raised eyebrows from Ash and Balthazar.

"This is insane! I am not walking all the shitting way over to the library to take a piss again!"

Balthazar looked up from his iPhone. "Didn't you just go? About ten minutes ago?"

"I have a nervous bladder. And you know, what makes me nervous, is knowing I can't use my own damn bathroom 'cause someone stole the wall and I'm going to have to walk all the shitting way over to the library to take a god damn piss!" He started to wheeze, and fumble with his inhaler.

"Maybe you could go over to Theta house," Balthazar drawled, shooting a wolfish grin at Ash, "and ask Becky for your balls back while you're there."

Ash shook his head. "Harsh, man."

"Balls?" Chuck repeated, between gasps. "Ok, first, you leave me and Becky out of this. Second, you want balls, I'll show you balls."

Gabriel paused in the doorway to the crash room.

"Who's showing who their balls?"

"Gabe," Chuck slammed his hand on the mantel, "Where's that Castiel guy gone?"

"Spent all day trying to argue with the board of directors about fixing our wall again. Said he had some groceries to pick up too. Why?"

"We need to do something to get them back, even if Dean says it's no go."

"Oh really, Charles?" Balthazar finally pocketed his phone, and sat back with his arms crossed. "And what do you suggest?"

Chuck scratched at his scruffy beard, and grinned.

"Oh, I think I've got an idea. Call Garth, see if he can get on campus tonight. And… we got any empty bottles kicking around?"

(-*-)

Operation Hazzard, as it somehow became called, involved Garth's night vision goggles, the cover of darkness, a willing decoy, the Alpha's top-of-the-line water filtration system (god forbid they should drink common tap water) and two bottles each of Chuck's earlier attempts at distillation. Once they heard Gabriel hammering against the front door, acting drunk (possibly not acting, Chuck could have sworn his bottles were more full than they were) and demanding a pledge swap for Sam, they started moving in on the back of the house.

For a group of guys so keen on having a lot of expensive stuff, they sure didn't seem keen on keeping it safe. Fifty seconds of Garth's lockpicking, a couple of seconds locating the filter access and the Omega Beta Pis were out of there with eight empty bottles that smelled vaguely of ethanol. Sure, the Alphas might notice that their water tasted like fire-whiskey, but then at 100% proof, odds were they wouldn't care for very long.

Gabriel continued being an ass until he was bodily thrown from the building, declared his intention to bed Sam (and table, chair, shower and any-available-flat-surface him, too) one last time, and ran full pelt back to the Omega house, where he found Ash, Garth, Chuck and Balthazar all in hysterics in the crash room.

"Best idea ever," Garth grinned, clapping Chuck on the shoulder. "We're free of contraband if anyone asks, and they're going to have cirrhosis, like, tomorrow."

"Yeah, real good job, pledge." Gabriel patted Chuck on the head, before pushing past them all and going upstairs. "Now wash out the bottles and hide them. I have a head full of inspiration to work off, so I'll be in my room. No one disturb me."

Trying not to think about what that actually meant, the Omegas celebrated their victory, hid the evidence, and let themselves sleep.

(-*-)

When Dean woke up and plodded through to the kitchen, he was very aware of what seemed to be a full scale argument. Castiel stood by the door, yelling at everyone in the crash room. Balthazar, Ash and Gabriel stood in the middle of the room, yelling back, while Garth talked Chuck through what looked like a panic attack.

"…of all the stupid, irresponsible…"

"It wasn't like it was us doing the…"

"I think you're missing the big picture…"

"Do you have any concept of the seriousness of your-"

Dean gave a shrill, sharp whistle, causing everyone to stop.

"What's happening?"

Fuming, Castiel turned on Dean, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him outside. Ignoring Dean's protests, Castiel deposited him by the mailbox, and turned him around to take in exactly what he had seen first thing this morning. The house was completely wrecked. Paint thrown across the porch, patches of burnt grass all over the lawn, puddles of… suspect liquid… Dean's jaw dropped.

"What?"

"Your fraternity did something, although god knows what, to incur the drunken wrath of the Alpha Kappa Alphas. They do not need any more attention at the moment, and whatever they did…"

"Woah, back off. First, whatever the Alphas did, we're the victims here, ok? So take your accusing tone and stick it."

"Yes, Dean, you are the victims." Castiel looked furious, the colour drained from his face, his eyes shining with ferocity, and his grip on Dean's shoulder tightening. "But I can guarantee you no one, but no one on this campus will see it that way. The fact is, the other fraternity would not attack without reason and, thanks to their better standing, you can guarantee anyone in a position of importance will believe their story over yours."

"So?" Dean snarled, shrugging off Castiel's hand and turning to go back into the house. Castiel grabbed his shoulder again and pulled him around so they were practically nose to nose.

"Are you asleep? Have you not listened to a single thing I've said? Or maybe you just haven't understood the severity of your situation. Allow me to make it a little clearer for you."

Dean wanted to back off, or punch out Castiel's lights, but he locked eyes and attempted to stare the older man down, even though he was seriously tense inside, and his guts felt like they were trying to change places with each other. Castiel was practically growling now, still tightening his hand on Dean's arm.

"Your fraternity is in serious trouble. Unless you can straighten up and fly right, you are going to be dropped. Your fraternity will be closed, and the members of it will be reviewed. If you're lucky, you will receive disciplinary action. Lucky. And if you're unlucky then you will be expelled." Castiel relinquished his grip on Dean's arm and straightened up. "If the members of your house do as I say, then you might just manage to redeem yourselves in the eyes of the board of directors. But I suggest you either start pulling your weight now, and being a responsible member of this college, or you start packing."

Dean stood in silence as Castiel stormed back into the house, and proceeded to organise the Omega beta Pis into a cleaning squad.

His house would be closed.

He bit his lip, deep in thought, before walking into the house. He saw and heard the guys bitching quietly about Castiel's reaction, but didn't respond. Eventually, when they suggested they needed to get their own back on him, Dean broke his short spell of silence.

"Guys, I've been thinking. Maybe we… maybe we should humour him."

He was greeted by four pairs of astounded eyes, and one pair of highly unimpressed ones (Gabriel's).

"You've got the hots for him."

"No! God, no. I just… the college board wouldn't have sent him in if we weren't in trouble, right? And, I mean, who knows, maybe he'll actually make this crapshack liveable." Dean shrugged. "Just, play along, do what he wants. Easy life, right?"

He knew they'd do it, because they didn't want to question him.

But he really wished someone would tell him what to do.


End file.
